They seem to be piling up quicker than I thought, so I'll keep them as long as I have space then most will surely get tossed.
What Do You Do with All Your Empty Tins?
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I would like to buy a pile of tins from someone. Tin ones, not the paper can things. Need them for other projects. I want to make a bunch of flint and steel fire starting kits for some Cub Scouts.
I am currently making a headphone amplifier for my phone and will be using a Grousemoor tin as the base case.
My teenager likes to collect my empty tins; she uses them for storage, display, etc. She and her mother have discussed re-purposing the tins by making candles with them, but with the new labeling and warnings taking up more real estate, I'm sure more of my (new) old tins will end up in the bin.
When I get some that I need to get rid of, I will get ahold of you. You can have them, just cover shipping.
It's gonna be a bit, before I have any.
@ azpipe: not a bad idea at all, especially if we consider that the Brigham corks already come with adhesive.
That is slick! I was just looking at a couple of sham-PAG-knee corks recently and said "There's gotta be something I can do with these!"
The correct answer is:
Throw them out.
There's not enough social order here to find someone to pass them to.
Back in the less-tolerant 1980s, I would have just gone down to a knitting/stitching shop.
Throw them out.
There's not enough social order here to find someone to pass them to.
Back in the less-tolerant 1980s, I would have just gone down to a knitting/stitching shop.
The title of this thread reminded me of a story from James Herriot's book titled All Creatures Great and Small wherein Siegfried is trying to find a way to get rid of a difficult client named Cranford. Siegfried asks his hapless brother Tristan to mail a used treacle tin full of fecal matter to the laboratory for testing, and while he is at the Post Office to mail a tin of ointment to Mr. Cranford for use on one of his sick hogs. Herriot continues the story:
"It took only three days for Mr. Cranford's name to come up again. Siegfried was opening the morning mail, throwing the circulars to one side and making a pile of bills and receipts when he became suddenly very still. He had frozen over a letter on blue notepaper and he sat like a statue till he read it through. At length he raised his head; his face was expressionless. 'James, this is just about the most vitriolic letter I have ever read. It's from Cranford. He's finished with us for good and all and is considering taking legal action against us.'
'What have we done this time?' I asked.
'He accuses us of grossly insulting him and endangering the health of his boar. He says we sent him a treacle tin full of cow shit with instructions to rub it on the boar's back three times daily.'
"Tristan, who had been sitting with his eyes half closed, became fully awake. He rose unhurridly and began to make his way towards the door. His hand was on the knob when his brother's voice thundered out.
'Tristan! Come back here! Sit down -- I think that we have something to talk about.'
"Tristan looked up resolutely, waiting for the storm to break, but Siegfried was unexpectedly calm. His voice was gentle.
'So you've done it again. When will I ever learn that I can't trust you to carry out the simplest task? It wasn't too much to ask, was it? Two little parcels to post--hardly a tough assignment. But you managed to botch it. You got the labels wrong, didn't you?'
"Tristan wiggled in his chair. 'I'm sorry, I can't imagine how...'
"Siegfried held up his hand. 'Oh, don't worry. Your usual luck has come to your aid. With anybody else this bloomer would be catastrophic but with Cranford--it's like devine providence.' He paused for a moment and a dreamy expression crept into his eyes. 'The label said to work it well in with the fingers, I seem to recall. And Mr. Cranford opened the package at the breakfast table... Yes, Tristan, I think you have found the way. This, I do believe, has done it.'
"I said, 'But how about the legal action?'
'Oh, I think we can forget about that. Mr. Cranford has a great sense of his own dignity. Just think how it will sound in court.' He crumpled the letter and dropped it into the wastepaper basket. 'Well, let's get on with some work.'"
I saved them for quite awhile thinking I'd get them on my man cave walls somehow but ended throwing them all out - except for the Esoterica tins.
I have this great pleasure of storing mine ... I love the art on them, but now days with all the legislation changes regarding health warnings, in Europe one can hardly distinguish the art on the tins any more. I had this idea of framing the most interesting round tins for display, but trying to put them together your sight is stolen by all "smoking kills" "tabak totten" "fumatul ucide" etc etc. type of warnings. In other words ... I am emotionally attached to my tins, but I need to pull myself together and throw some out.
I used to fill them with Tannerite and use them for target practice. Then I found that one of the tins, reduced to a razor-sharp mass of twisted shrapnel, had landed up on the roof of my house, 50 yards behind my shooting position. I no longer engage in this activity.
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